The Three Treasures: Part 1
by Amadaun
Summary: Rezo saves the life of a young, mute girl. Now what will he do with her? *Chapter Two is up*
1. Discovery

Author's note: I'm just learning how to code HTML, so bear with me (and point it out) if I screw something up, okay? 

Disclaimer: I don't own any Slayers characters, nor anything else related to them. Please don't sue me, I spent all of my money on manga. ^_^ 

1. Discovery 

_Blood?  
I didn't know I had blood. _

Is this death?  
How odd. 

I thought . . .  
Well, I suppose everyone thinks they'll live forever. 

It's getting dark.   
I'll just close my eyes. . . 

It's . . . a pity . . . really.  
I . . hope . . I . . . 

Snow began to fall softly upon the beaten-down path, great soft flakes that blanketed the trees with sparkling garments. Or so he was told. He smiled bitterly. For all his titles and power, he, Rezo, could not accomplish the simple task of looking at the snow falling on his own head. Certainly, he could project the image into his mind with a simple spell, one that took nearly no thought at all. But that method was clumsy and the image blurry and dull. It could not compare with being able to actually perceive the world with his own eyes, a thing even babies could do. He banged the end of his staff hard against the ground, listening to the harsh chimes. Pathetic. Ah, well, mentally arguing with himself would get him nowhere. Talking to yourself was the first sign of going senile, after all. Although, after all these years it was probably about time. . . 

Suddenly he paused. He felt something . . . odd. Reaching out with his senses he listened intently. Yes. There it was. Pain. Intense pain. Surprising he hadn't felt it before, he thought as his senses began to reel at the onslaught. He supposed he ought to find whoever it was, even if only to keep himself from going mad. Reaching out once more, he searched for the source. There, under that tree up ahead. He walked forward and knelt, raising his eyebrows. 

A girl. Rather young by the look of her. She lay sprawled on the ground, the snow around her stained crimson from her blood. Her injuries weren't normal, by any stretch of the imagination. She appeared to have been thrown through a pane of glass, as near as he could tell. Deep slashes scored her flesh from head to toe. Pale hair was matted with blood from where she had hit her head. She was breathing, barely. He shook his head. To do something like this to oneself took, at the very least, a considerable amount of effort. A healing spell would do no good here, he knew. Something, glass most likely, was embedded in her wounds. To heal her now would mean nothing, infection at best. He frowned. He wasn't too far from his laboratory, but he couldn't move her, not without doing something for those cuts. Unfortunately, he was the only person for miles around, and to leave the girl here and going to find some help would mean certain death for her. 

Sighing, he resigned himself to the rather nasty task of bandaging her up. There wasn't much left of her clothes, but they would have to do. He could heal the least of the wounds, then bandage the rest and wrap her up in his outer robe until he got home. He winced, then got to work. At times like these, he was almost glad he was blind. He frowned again as he examined her clothing. The soft material marked her as a noble, but if she was, what in Ceipheed's name was she doing here? The early blizzard had kept everyone from traveling anywhere for the past few days. He was the first on this road since then. As far as he could tell, there were no footprints leading to the girl. It was as if she had dropped from the sky. Finally, he gave up trying to figure it out and concentrated on healing the white-haired girl. 

Removing his cloak, he laid her on it and gently wrapped her up. Her wounds had stopped bleeding, but he still picked her up as carefully as he could. As he made his way up the path, he was surprised at how light she was. He could easily carry her with one arm, cradling her against his chest like a child. She stirred and moaned quietly before subsiding again. Well. Apparently she was still alive. He hoped she would stay that way. He really didn't want to explain why he was carrying around a nearly naked dead girl. Carrying around a nearly naked, barely alive girl was bad enough. Thank the gods that she had on some clothing, even though there wasn't much left of it at all. 

"Well, you certainly are lucky, little snow fairy." he remarked. "Lucky that someone found you. Lucky that I was the one to find you instead of a bandit gang. Lucky that you aren't going to die. At least not yet. Not if I have anything to do with it." 

The white-haired child slept on, oblivious to the fact she was safe, warm, and alive. 

_Well. . . _

. . . not dead after all. 

I think. 

No. . .   
Hurt too much to be dead.  
Ouch.   
Everything's fuzzy. My mind feels slow. 

She opened her eyes, feeling as if they had lead weights attached to them. She was in a bed, with thick, warm blankets covering her. A fire burned merrily, filling the room with a warm, cheerful light. She tried to stretch, then winced as pain shot through her once more. Glancing down, she saw her arms were thickly covered with clean, white bandages; and she supposed that that was what the rest of her body looked like as well. 

"I wouldn't try to move yet, your body is still healing." She whipped her head around in the direction of the deep voice, and immediately regretted it. The throbbing in her head told her exactly why she felt so dizzy. She heard a gentle chuckle, then the owner of the voice moved into view. It was a very tall man with purple hair and red robes. As she studied him she realized with a sudden jolt that he was blind. 

"So, you're finally awake. It's been three days since I found you in the snow. I thought it best if I let your more serious injuries heal naturally, so you'll have to stay in bed for a while." She blinked. _He helped me? Snow? Where am I? _"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Rezo, the Red Priest. I was traveling from Sairaag when I found you." _Rezo. Sairaag. I don't know. . ._ "May I ask your name?" 

Her name? She opened her mouth, then closed it again, puzzled. What was her name? She couldn't remember. She racked her brain, trying desperately to push past the fog that muddled every thought. 

Rezo studied the girl. She looked to be in her early teens, definitely not old enough to be out on her own. She regarded him silently, emotionlessly. Obviously not trusting him one bit. She was awake and alive, that much was for certain. But he couldn't be sure how much damage had been done. Her hesitation at his simple question worried him. He pulled a chair up next to the bed and sat down, lightly touching the wound on her head. She winced again and pulled away, her eyes narrowing. The bump on her head must have done more damage than he thought. "Do you remember anything? Your home, your parents, anything?" he asked, as gently as he could. He could sense her concentrating, desperately searching her mind for a clue of her origin. 

_Where did I come from? Why do I hurt?_

Her mind filled with despair, which only sharpened as she opened her mouth, trying to speak, without result. Alarmed, he laid his hand gently on her throat. Had her voice somehow been damaged? His probe turned up nothing, at least nothing he could explain. Her vocal cords, as near as he could tell, had simply stopped working. A seal? He grimaced. More likely her experience had been such a shock that her body was rebelling against her. He didn't know if her voice could heal, but if it could, it would be only after months, maybe years. He smiled bitterly as he felt her panic. He knew what it was like to go through life without something most people took for granted. He carefully removed his hand. Amnesia and now mute as well. And he probably wasn't helping any. Perhaps if he left he alone for a while, she could try to collect her thoughts in peace. 

He stood. "You just lie there and rest, I'll bring some food." 

She lay there, staring off into the distance. Now what was she going to do? She couldn't talk , could barely move, she couldn't even remember her own name. She owned nothing except the clothes on her back, and if they were in the same condition as she was, they were worthless. Without her voice, she couldn't ask Rezo anything that might help or thank him for what he had done for her. For all the good that would do. Perhaps it would have been better if she had died in the snow, instead of living her life as a mute girl, without a past or an identity. She let out a soundless sigh and shook her head furiously, trying to clear out the clouds. She glanced over to the window ledge. Moving around might help. Besides, she wasn't going to stay helpless in bed for too long. Hopefully. 

With alarming weakness, she pulled herself out of the bed. She should be stronger than this? _I don't know. . .Why can't I think straight? I don't like having my mind like this. Maybe it was always like this, I wouldn't know . . .Why am I hurt? Did someone hurt me? Why? Why can't I remember? Something is . . . wrong? Danger, perhaps?_

Pulling herself up to the window ledge, she snorted, collapsing against a pile of pillows. Of course there was danger. She wouldn't be sitting here, wrapped in gauze from head to toe if she hadn't been or wasn't now in danger. And if she was in danger, her unexpected savior could be too. She gathered the blankets about herself and leaned back, staring out at the snow. Maybe if she just faded into the background. As an anonymous person, she would be safe, wouldn't she? Since she had nothing to go on now, she could just start from here. This decided, she felt a strange sort of comfort. Some kind of plan was better than nothing, after all. 

The purple-haired man walked down the stairs, contemplating the strange twists fate had thrown at him that day. He certainly hadn't expected this when he had come from Sairaag today. He had absolutely no idea what to do with this young, mute girl. And it didn't appear he would be getting any help anytime soon, he reflected. The change in the weather over the last few days had told him that another storm was coming. He wasn't going to be doing any traveling anytime soon, and neither would anyone else. Again. It was going to be a cold winter, with all of these early storms. 

Well, he had to make the best of it. He was a healer, after all, he could easily care for her wounds, and she was healing quickly enough by herself. Clothes were another matter. After whatever had happened to her, what was left of her clothes was unrecoverable, and she certainly couldn't wander around wrapped in blankets. He would have to find a tailor, but certainly not in this snowstorm. If all else failed, he could go digging through some of the spare rooms. Through the years, a few of people he had healed had attempted to repay him, and he had quite a lot of, well, _junk_ lying about that he had never bothered to get rid of. There had to be something in there he could find for her. He would have to. She had nothing at all to her name. 

This, of course, brought him back to the original question. Who was his mysterious visitor, and how did she come to be in the condition she was in? Her wounds were certainly not common. And neither was she for that matter. Everything about her pointed to nobility, but in all of his travels, he had never seen or heard of her before. _But . . ._ he thought back. There had been no footprints around her, and yet, she had only been lying there for a short time. He frowned. the only possible explanation he could think of was that she had been on the wrong side of a spell at the wrong time. When she was asleep again he would investigate. He could use his powers to examine the clothes, her wounds, anything that might be a clue to her true identity. 

He continued to quietly plan the hours and days ahead as he carried up some food for the girl. Weak soup and tea, for now, maybe something stronger later. And to think he had been planning a nice quiet evening. This girl was a bit of a nuisance. However, even if she couldn't talk, it might be nice to have some company, at least until the blizzard passed. If nothing else, this was a welcome distraction from the almost constant quest to unseal his eyes. He glanced up as he entered the room and barely stopped himself from slapping his hand to his forehead, a gesture that would have proven disastrous due to the hot food he was carrying in said hand. _She's going to be the death of one of us!_

"What are you doing up? Do you want to make your injuries worse?" She turned her silent stare onto him as he quickly set down the food and stalked over to the window. She looked at his furious face, puzzled. Why should he care about what she did? After being in bed for three days, as he had said, her muscles ached from inactivity. Shouldn't she get up and move around? She turned and looked out the window again, ignoring the man glowering down at her. 

Unfortunately, as small as she was, she was on the losing side of any argument about her mobility. Rezo sighed and simply scooped her up once more, returning her to the bed. She tried to struggle, but gave up, being far too weak to do anything against him. 

"Now, this time you're going to stay there. You need to rest if you're planning on healing up anytime soon." He took the food and sat down again. Motioning at the bowl, he said, "I got you something to eat. After three days, you must be starving." 

The girl glanced at the food, and then at him. _After three days I want to get up and . . . oh, never mind!_ She weakly moved her hand toward the food, but she had used up all of her strength going over to the window. As her hand fell back to the coverlet, Rezo could sense her disgust at herself, him, and the general world around her. He sighed again. 

"I must say, I never envisioned myself in the role of nursemaid. Especially to such an uncooperative little girl as you." He fetched the tray and laid the tray on his lap and, much to his personal amusement, held a spoonful of the thin soup to her lips. As she jerked in surprise and regarded the spoon with a mixture of wariness and scorn, he snorted. "I assure you, my dear, this isn't a great highlight in my life either. But I'm sure that even snow fairies such as yourself have to eat sometimes. So if you don't tell anyone of this, I will keep my silence as well." 

_Don't tell . . .! How would I do that?_ Though she was tempted to turn her back on him, the smell of the soup was far too tantalizing, and she realized that she was, in fact, hungry. After staring at him for several moments more, she finally leaned forward and carefully sipped at the spoon he held to her lips. Her eyes widened as the soup washed over her tongue. It was . . . good! Rezo smiled down at her and, hesitantly, she tried out the expression on her own face. It felt unfamiliar, but Rezo chuckled. 

"So you do have some emotions, little snow fairy. I was afraid I'd brought back an ice queen instead." 

_I guess it's right then. . . _

Author's note number two: So, tell me what you think! I'm going to try to make this into a sort of "History of Rezo" because there just aren't enough Rezo 'fics out there. Please Review! 


	2. Containment

Disclaimer: I still don't own any Slayers characters, nor anything else related to them. 

Author's note: Thank you to all those who reviewed this 'fic! 

2. Containment 

The girl had fallen asleep again, too exhausted to do anything else. Rezo carefully pulled the covers over her once more, praying she would stay in bed this time. At least when she was asleep, he didn't have to worry that she'd do something else that was utterly foolish. The child seemed to have no idea of what was best for her. He supposed he ought to check on her every once in a while, just to make sure she hadn't killed herself. He chuckled on his way out the door. Within a few hours, she'd probably be up and about again, no matter what he said, so maybe it would be better if he didn't even try. She would find out how to get around without him knowing somehow, he had no doubt about that. This girl had a stubborn streak that matched his own. Once she was better and had her voice back, this could result in some spectacular arguments, to say the least. 

What _would_ happen once she was better? She probably had some relatives somewhere who were looking for her, or a home of her own. Perhaps she was a temple ward. But how would he find her real home. She certainly couldn't stay with him, he had nowhere for her. _Even if she could stay here, I have no need for a amnesia-stricken child who probably has no magical train-_

He paused in his thoughts. That would be interesting to find out. She did have a fairly strong aura, perhaps she knew some spells. Of course, since her voice was gone, it was a moot point at best - she couldn't cast anything. However. . . He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. There was a chance that she could be able to cast spells within her _mind_. Though not the rarest of magical abilities, it was one that did not come naturally. Teaching her how would take time - time that would keep her in bed where she belonged, instead of traipsing about the house, causing even more damage to herself and her general surroundings. _Although, giving her the training to use magic may be like adding fuel to the fire._ That was a daunting thought. She could certainly add much more force to her arguments if she could use magic. It could turn out to be, at the least, a very painful tutoring job. On the other hand, if he could teach her to develop her mind, perhaps they could create a spell to let her talk. It would probably be a mind-to-mind contact, but that was better than nothing. 

As he continued to think, he made his way down the stairs, into one of his many laboratories. This one, like most of the others, was underground. As a result, it was rather cold and damp, especially when there was a raging snowstorm overhead. _Like now,_ he thought with a touch of dry humor. Though this laboratory was not as well stocked as the one in Sairaag, he had quite a lot of magical equipment lying about, ranging from spell books and vials, to a large magic circle and a few nurturing tanks for growing chimeras. His wandering attention finally rested on one of these. _Perhaps . . ._ His mysterious guest still had a few wounds that just wouldn't heal, refusing to let him remove whatever was in them. Though it wasn't the best of solutions, if he could immerse the girl in one of these tanks, perhaps, just perhaps, the wounds would finally close up. She really wouldn't like that, but it would have to be done, soon, before infection set in. Also, when she would be in there, her mind would be open. He could begin laying down the spells to allow her to speak with him, and search for clues to her identity. Anything that wasn't shielded, he could read, and he might be able to find something she couldn't in her befuddled state. It would take him the rest of the day to prepare the solution, but the girl would sleep, and he would hopefully have no interruptions. He rested his hand on the smooth, cool glass of the tank and nodded. He would begin at once. 

Back upstairs, the white-haired girl was sleeping soundly once more, wrapped in warm covers as the storm raged outside. Strange figures scuttled through her dreams as she slept, whispering secrets of her past that slipped through her fingers like water. She moaned and shivered. As a particularly horrifying shade slipped past her mind's eye, her body spasmed involuntarily. 

_YEEOOUUCH!!!_

Her eyes snapped open and she jerked the covers off her prone body. Staring down at herself, she saw a red stain slowly spreading under her ribs. The violent twitch must have caused some of her wounds to open up again. _Heal naturally, huh? How kind of him . ._

She sat up, every muscle in her body protesting. Rubbing her eyes, she looked thoughtfully at the door. _I'm really sick of being in this bed. I want to get up and move around. Maybe if I wait until he's asleep, I won't get caught this time._

What time _was_ it anyway? All that she could tell was that it was dark outside. Good. Dark meant night, and night usually did mean sleep. Maybe she could get up and move around without Rezo catching her and returning her to the confining bed. And maybe she could snoop a bit in the bargain. 

Carefully, and very slowly, she disentangled herself from the sheets and placed her feet on the floor. She was pleased to note that she was slightly stronger than before. Perhaps she would soon be able to walk without support. Ignoring the twinges from her newly opened wound, she managed to pull the blanket over her shoulders in an effort to cover herself. That done, she made her way to the door. She peeked through, making sure she wasn't being watched. The hall beyond was dark and still, nothing moved that she could tell. With one hand on the wall to support her, she began to investigate, peering into room after room. Most of the them held only large amounts of dust, nothing of any real interest. The rest were locked and, try as she might, she couldn't find the keys. She didn't try to force them because, other than the fact she didn't have anywhere near the strength needed, Rezo could be in any one of them, and she didn't want to risk alerting him to her presence. 

When she got to the stairs, she was faced with a problem. She wasn't getting anywhere up here, but if she went down the stairs, she was pretty sure she didn't have the strength to come back up. So what now? She clutched her makeshift clothing to her. It was rather chilly too. It would be easiest; and most likely wisest, since there was a chance Rezo was still awake; to simply return to her bed and pretend she had never left it. She looked over her shoulder at the long hallway behind her. _I don't think I have enough strength left to go back either. Might as well go forward then, and hope I don't trip. Okay then._ She took a deep breath, and carefully made her way down. The way was hard and long, but she had nearly made it to the bottom when a dry voice observed; 

"I'm going to have to tie you to that bed, aren't I?" 

She nearly jumped out of her skin, but managed to hang on to her shattered nerves (and the blanket) as she ignored the man leaning against the banister, and eased herself down the rest of the way. However, once there, her body decided that it had had enough, and, despite her mental protests, sank down to the bottom step. She looked up at Rezo, who was regarding her (more or less) with calm amusement. _Oh well,_ she thought, _nothing else for it;_ and held out her hand to him in a gesture that plainly said: _If you're just going to stand there smiling, make yourself useful and help me up!_

"Not the least bit repentant, hmm?" commented the Red Priest as he got her to her feet again. He glanced out the window. "I see, you saw it was dark, so, hoping that I was asleep, you decided to do some exploring, right?" He chuckled. "Well, it's actually early morning, and I was just coming up to check on you." He sensed her surprise, and added, "In the winter here, it takes a while for the sun to come up. And, with this storm outside, I would be very surprised if it got beyond a twilight today. Are you hungry at all?" 

She started at the sudden change of subject, then shook her head. Frowning, she remembered that he couldn't see. She opened her mouth, closed it again, and looked up at Rezo helplessly. Why couldn't he at least act blind so that she didn't feel quite so stupid! 

He chuckled again. "That's right. You can't talk. This puts us in a pretty predicament, since I won't be able to understand you even if you sign. Well, I have been working on a solution for that, but it would require you to stay still for about a day, without complaining, and now I seriously doubt you have the patience to do that." 

Insulted, she opened her mouth again, took a deep breath, . . . and let out what could only be called a squeak of indignation. Whatever effect she had been hoping for she certainly didn't get. Rezo nearly lost his balance as he began laughing hysterically. Her jaw dropped. _How dare he! I . . He . . . That . . ._ Unable to think up anything sufficiently dirty to call him, she could only glare helplessly as he continued to laugh. After a while, however, she could stand it no longer. Not realizing what she was doing, she yanked back her hand and swung at him with all her might. Abruptly, his laughter stopped. Several quick motions later, she found herself dangling in the air as his fingers tightened around her wrist. She stared in disbelief. Somehow he had managed to catch her hand in mid-swing and pull her off her feet. She gaped at the ground which lay a good foot below her dangling toes, and then back up at the man in front of her. 

"My dear, I apologize, but you must realize; I have taken you in from the snow, I have cared for you like you were my own child, my life for the last few days has been revolving completely around you, and yet you still seem to believe that you deserve more. I don't know how you thank people, but around here we certainly do not do it by trying to hit our saviors." His voice was frighteningly calm and controlled, but the fingers on her wrist belied his anger by tightening ever so slightly. "Perhaps you've never been laughed at before, I can understand that. You been through enough lately that your nerves are frayed, I can understand that too." His face hardened, "But if you display another fit of temper like this without a very good reason, child, I can assure you, it will not be tolerated." 

With that, he lowered her to the ground. She stumbled back, rubbing her wrist, trying to force feeling back into it. With a swish of fabric, he turned his back on her and curtly ordered, "Follow me." 

Eyes downcast, she obeyed his order. This was the second time now she had made him angry, she _should_ be sorry. However, her penitent mood lasted all of another five seconds before her temper began to consider jumping ship as well. _But he laughed at you, didn't he?_ argued another part of her brain, _He made you angry. Shouldn't you retaliate?_ She stumbled suddenly, caught herself, and added another complaint to her list of woes. _And now he's forcing me to walk just to be spiteful._ She glared daggers at the red-robed back in front of her, further vengeful thoughts flitting through her mind. She was beginning to work herself up into yet another towering rage when her legs once more decided to give up the ghost. 

At the strangled almost-noise of surprise behind him, Rezo spun around just in time to grab her around the waist before she hit the ground. Silently, he once more scooped her up into his arms and continued to walk. The girl glanced at the surroundings moving past her and realized with a sudden twinge of guilt exactly how much slower he had been walking earlier so as not to lose her. 

As if sensing her sudden change of emotion, Rezo said quietly, "Since you were so upset with me before, I thought you would have felt insulted if I didn't let you walk on your own. I apologize. I did not realize how weak you were." The girl ducked her head in embarrassment, suddenly understanding that she had been acting like a brat. 

Rezo smiled. "Child, there is no need for you to feel ashamed. You have not yet learned to control your temper. Everyone, even I, has urges to do such things. You are just too young to know how to restrain yourself." He squeezed her shoulder. "Apology accepted by the way." The girl smiled uncertainly and nodded. 

They continued on in silence. After a few minutes, the girl stopped trying to look at everything they passed. She leaned her head against his chest and closed her eyes, the rhythmic movement of his walking lulling her to sleep. Suddenly he halted and shook her arm. "Child, we're here." 

The girl glanced up, startled. They were in a large stone room absolutely stuffed with shelves, tables, glassware, and other, rather unidentifiable, things. Rezo set her down in front of a large glass tank filled to the brim with some kind of liquid. Curious, she gently touched the glass. It felt warm and . . comforting almost. She leaned forward and placed her cheek against it. Compared to the cold drafty lab, it felt wonderful. She closed her eyes. 

"Child." Rezo's voice interrupted her reverie. She looked up expectantly. He was standing at one of the many tables, measuring strangely colored liquids into a large vat. "Come over here for a moment." 

She obeyed, moving over to the table and standing on her tiptoes to peer into the vat. Rezo laid a hand on her shoulder and pointed back to the tank. "The solution I spoke of earlier, do you remember?" When she nodded he continued. "That large glass container is called a chimera tank. They are used to create living tissue for experiments. However, in your case, I believe it can be used to finish your healing process. And in order to do that I need you to _sleep._" 

At that last word, the soothing energy of the spell rushed from his hand into her body. Her eyes rolled up into her head and her legs buckled. Rezo gently propped her up against the table leg. He didn't like having to trick her like that, but he doubted she would enjoy what would happen next. He pulled a slim dagger from his belt and, carefully holding her hand over the vat, made two shallow slices in her palm. He would need her blood in the solution to help her heal. He counted ten drops hitting the fluid in the vat and then quickly bound up her hand. He then lifted her again and carried her over to an empty tank. He levitated her into it and sealed the lid. Pulling a lever nearby, he nodded in satisfaction as it began to fill with a pinkish liquid. As soon as her lungs got used to the base fluid, he could add the mixture he had prepared. That would start accelerated tissue growth inside her wounds, sealing them. More complex than a healing spell, but less of a chance of infection. 

He stretched and yawned. It would be a while before he could start the needed spells, he might as well make himself comfortable. Pulling a book off of one of his many shelves, he settled back to wait. 


End file.
